


The Expression Of A Feeling

by flamingosarepink



Series: The Feeling Itself [2]
Category: Formula 1 RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe, An AU in which Charles is a violin virtuoso, Angst with a Happy Ending, M/M, This is what happens when I read about stolen Stradivarius violins
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-07
Updated: 2020-02-07
Packaged: 2021-03-12 16:31:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 809
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22592593
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/flamingosarepink/pseuds/flamingosarepink
Summary: There isn’t much that Max finds comforting about the room with its dark wood bookshelves, matching desk and the feelings that come with being in such close confines with a source of anxiety.And yet.Yet, he notices a violin case on his father’s desk.
Relationships: Charles Leclerc/Max Verstappen
Series: The Feeling Itself [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1625272
Comments: 8
Kudos: 22





	The Expression Of A Feeling

**Author's Note:**

> Title is taken from a quote by Claude Debussy.

“We pride ourselves on discretion, I can assure you it will be no problem.” Silence.

Part of Max still finds it necessary to be as quiet as possible as he makes his way down the hallway, hands in his pockets with blue eyes never leaving the sight of the front door and what lays beyond it as the string of his father’s words find their way to ears tuned to hear every noise and note. Even if he wasn’t on the phone, it isn’t as if he would notice Max finding his way out at this ungodly hour. But if he knew where he was going, perhaps things would be much different. 

All he needs to do is make it past the open door of his father’s study, to make it past without him noticing.

“Max, get in here.” His tone is firm and commanding. Max should have known better. He really should have known better. 

There isn’t much that Max finds comforting about the room with its dark wood bookshelves, matching desk and the feelings that come with being in such close confines with a source of anxiety. 

And yet. 

Yet, he notices a violin case on his father’s desk.

Yet, he takes note of the unmistakable letter B in gold leaf on the handle of the accompanying bow. The unmistakable red of the varnish.

“You’ve heard about the Bianchi Stradivarius, right?” 

Suddenly, everything Max has been thinking of up until this moment is deemed irrelevant.

§

“I was beginning to think that you weren’t going to come tonight.” Charles confesses from his place on his bed, sitting cross legged watching Max with undivided attention as the other appears from the en suite bathroom, toweling his hair dry. Max has only ever felt at home under the roof of the Leclercs and in the bed of Charles. The whole atmosphere is unlike anything he’s ever known, and as he leaves the towel on the hook behind the door and turns out the light he finds it in himself to smile fondly at the sight across the room. The only source of light in the room is the lamp on the nightstand, casting a warm glow that furthers the feeling of being purely at ease despite the thoughts Max finds clouding his mind otherwise. Things are not nearly as bad as they seem when Max knows he isn’t above doing what is necessary.

“You know I wouldn’t say one thing and do another.” Max replies as he walks towards the bed, Charles on his back and laying himself bare as Max crawls on top of him. Taking in every detail of Charles’s face, Max thinks that he can see a creeping blush blooming on his cheeks. 

“Good to know.” Charles whispers against Max’s lips, hands in his hair and seemingly pulling him closer. 

Yet, there is that nagging thought that appears. The one that steps to the forefront at the most inopportune moment. The one that Max can’t let go of. _The one that Max just has to do something about._

“Charles,” Max’s thumb brushes over a sharp cheekbone before he closes the distance. “There isn’t one thing that I wouldn’t do for you.” 

Brutal honesty becomes pure bliss.

§

Max steps out of bed, quiet and deliberate and thanking some unknown higher power for the fact that Charles can sleep through anything as he glances back over his shoulder through the darkness and sees the other- tangled in sheets the color of fresh cream and ever so peaceful. The clock on the wall reads 2:30 am, and really it is now or never. 

Thankfully, Max has long ago since made up his mind.

Locating his sweatpants discarded earlier in the night on the floor, he fishes out his phone from his pocket after having put them back on. He walks to the window, the curtains a thin mask over the sight of the marina below. Max dials a number without hesitation and seemingly from memory, and for a minute something in his brain that dares question what he’s about to do sounds its opposition. What it doesn’t know is that he would rather never talk to his father again than never be able to look Charles in the eyes because he had decided, as the saying goes, that blood really was thicker than water. 

_Your call will remain anonymous,_ the automated voice says before a woman answers the phone. For a moment Max thinks she might laugh but there is no way anyone wouldn’t take information like this seriously, not when it’s on the top ten list of every white collar crimes list at every bureau in the world. 

At the conclusion of the call, the automated voice appears again. 

_Your information is appreciated._

As the night becomes morning, the sound of a police siren sounds in the distance.

**Author's Note:**

> Given that Max is a piano virtuoso in this verse, I used a lot of piano music to write this fic which is as follows:
> 
> \- Nocturne Op. 9, No.2 in E flat // Chopin  
\- Nocturne Op. 9, No.3 in B // Chopin  
\- Raindrop Prelude // Chopin  
\- Ballade No.1 in G minor // Chopin  
\- Piano Trio Op.11 // Fanny Mendelssohn 
> 
> _ But music, don’t you know, is a dream from which the veils have been lifted. It’s not even the expression of a feeling, it’s the feeling itself._


End file.
